


Not Like Loth-cats

by Artemis1000



Series: Snapshots - Prompt fic [9]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Military Kink, Military Ranks, Playful Sex, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Sensuality, Sexual Roleplay, Table Sex, Tumblr Prompt, Undernegotiated roleplay, Wet & Messy, Wire Play, this has a lot of sex tags for nobody getting laid in chapter 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: Cassian's not a Loth-cat in heat, thank you very much, but K-2 is making it very hard to keep his hands to himself today. K-2 is also pretty awful at roleplay. Oh well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the very anonymous anon who requested _Cassian’s “Captain” kink_ for Droidcaptain - I love you and I apologize because I'm apparently back to where my attempts at smut lead to nobody getting laid.
> 
> Let's hope this gets bumped up to Explicit in chapter 2!
> 
> Content Advice at the bottom

"Your orders, Captain?”

Cassian twitched, eyes going to K-2 who was watching him in perfect attentive innocence.

It was a simple mission, mere reconnaissance and surveillance. It shouldn’t have Cassian tied into knots.

Yet here he was, his body taut as a string, breath hitching when K-2 stepped closer to him. Incredibly close, he all but molded himself against Cassian’s back. The alleyway they had slipped into to avoid the local security forces was narrow but there was absolutely no reason for K-2 to be pressed against him like this.

His heart sped up a little further and he leaned back, leaning into K-2’s strong, tall frame. The droid’s arms snaked around him just as he had known they would, deliciously strong and powerful and, if he wished for it, deliciously restraining.

But that wasn’t the game into which K-2 had been seducing him all day.

“Kay, we’re on duty!” Cassian hissed between clenched teeth. It wasn’t much of a rebuke, not when he had been hissing the same reminder at him all day without ever pushing him away or doing anything else to discourage him beyond that token protest.

“Of course, Captain,” K-2 demurred and released him, much to Cassian’s secret dismay. He had been such a _well-behaved_ droid today.

He pressed his lips together to stifle the disappointed noise he wanted to make. Cassian let his eyes wander up K-2’s sleek durasteel frame until he looked right into bright photoreceptors. Watching him, again. K-2’s optics had been on him all day, leaving Cassian on the verge of being flustered by the rapt attention alone.

Cassian looked away first. He could feel himself flush under his intense regard. Early in the morning, before their day and their recon mission had begun, it had seemed like a cunning idea to let his fingers and mouth drive K-2 to distraction only to coyly cite lack of time to deny him what they both wanted. He had thought he would instead give himself the delicious thrill of knowing his lover would spend all day with his wires feeling the sweet phantom prickle of an unreleased charge.

He had not counted on K-2 teasing him back.

He had not counted on the fact that K-2 kept calling him _Captain_ in such a sensual way that it made him want to forget everything else and pin K-2 to this grimy alley wall and not stop until he shut down from overload.

Cassian shot him an arch look. “This is highly unprofessional,” he reminded both of them. He shifted, tried to ignore the sudden tightness he felt in his pants. It would be unspeakably bad to be literally caught with his pants down. Even if the horny part of his mind argued that he didn’t even need to have his pants down, he just needed K-2’s hand on his cock and an open maintenance hatch.

K-2’s large hand settled on the nape of Cassian’s neck, pleasantly cool against his hot, slightly sweaty skin. “I would hope so.”

“I’m not a Loth-cat in heat,” he told K-2 sternly, even as he contemplated these large talented fingers thrusting into him. Kriff, but he loved K-2’s hands. “I have self-control.”

He had. Kind of. He stalked out of the alleyway, driven by all the self-control he could muster. At least it would be a simple mission. He could handle it even with half his mind still in the alley, caught up in all the things they could be doing right now if he had slightly less self-control.

 

For all that the mission had been ridiculously easy, Cassian still considered it half a miracle that they made it back to their ship in one piece. Not for any danger but simply because he’d been unable to keep his eyes or his thoughts off the droid at his side.

It turned out K-2 was never more distracting than when he wasn’t distracting at all.

And he had been so very well-behaved today.

With droids and humans being what they were to another, Cassian giving K-2 orders outside of work was something they touched only in the most delicate manner. It was a very delicate affair indeed, but when they did indulge in it, it was ever so pleasurable.

“You,” he told K-2 as soon as he had shut and locked the hatch behind him, a finger pointed at him, “stay put.”

Their ship was a small affair, most space was taken up by a cargo bay loaded with crates of meiloruns which they were allegedly shipping. There was a tiny cabin to provide the captain an illusion of true privacy on a ship so small it was meant for a crew of one anyway.

Cassian slipped into the cabin and rummaged around in his mission bag until he’d found the pieces he wanted. He didn’t have the kind of job where you took a spare uniform along but this world was rebel-friendly enough that in some places a rebel uniform would protect you more than it would endanger you. He hadn’t planned on using it, though he had brought it just in case. He was glad to have it now, albeit for unexpected reasons.

Civilian clothes replaced by the familiar colors of his uniform, he felt more like himself again. There was more confidence, more purpose to his every movement as he left the cabin to track down his tease of a droid lover. That he had, in fact, _not_ stayed put was no surprise whatsoever.

Since their departure wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow Cassian’s path took him to the rec room first, not to the bridge.

He found K-2 studying the dejarik game they had abandoned last night when Cassian had leaned in close and murmured right into his audio receptors, _let’s try a more challenging simulation. Scenario:_ _You can keep rubbing in that your capabilities for strategical analysis are greater than mine. Or you can take off my clothes and fuck me on the dejarik table. Calculate: Which choice is more rewarding?_

“Busy there, soldier?” His tone was brisk, the posture perfect.

K-2 looked up and froze. If he were human, Cassian had no doubt his breath would have hitched.

Cassian’s gaze lingered on the table. Last night, K-2 had made the choice that guaranteed both of them greater pleasure. Last night, Cassian had been happy to bend and quiver under his hands and to beg for him, to be seductive and alluring and _sweet_ and everything else most people on base wouldn’t even think him capable of.

Tonight, he didn’t intend to bend very far at all.

“I expect an answer when I ask you a question, soldier,” he snapped as he stepped closer, his brisk no-nonsense tone sharpening to something that spelled trouble if he would have to ask a third time. Despite the sharp words, his touch was hesitant when he brushed his fingers against K-2’s side, his eyes asking for permission where his mouth did not.

K-2’s fingers brushed against his in silent reassurance. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, sounding every bit the respectful rebel droid. And then he stalled. His pupils shifted this way and that. “I… am not busy? Sir?”

Cassian pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle. K-2 was truly a terrible actor. Being a much better actor himself, all he let show was a withering look. “Then you should stand up when your superior officer enters the room, shouldn’t you?”

“Should I?” K-2 asked, genuinely puzzled – he would be, it wasn’t like he ever observed proper protocol – then changed his mind and ventured, “I should.” And interrupted himself again in a stage whisper, “Cassian? Do you want me to say I shouldn’t?”

The professional mask broke and laughter bubbled up in Cassian. K-2’s indignant noise only made the laughter come faster and louder, until Cassian’s slim shoulders were shaking with his hilarity.

K-2 stood up and walked up to him, poking him hard in the middle of the chest. “Are you malfunctioning? I could help you with a hard reboot.”

Cassian forced his laughter back to snickers. “You’re not knocking me out, Kay. We’re not doing _that_ kind of roleplay…” His lips twitched, “today.”

“I understand.” He let his optics wander over Cassian’s body and he felt some of the cooled heat fan up again. “You look very nice in your uniform.”

He lifted his brows quizzically. “Really? All of a sudden now?” For someone who didn’t even wear clothes, K-2 had a lot of opinions on rebel uniforms and his everything else.

“You always look very nice in your uniform, Captain. Especially when you take it off.”

“Oh,” he breathed. Heat flooded him all over and gathered between his legs. Standing chest to face with K-2, he always felt tiny. But size was a matter of attitude. He tilted his head back, fixing K-2 with an arch look. “I have yet to see you do anything to deserve such a reward, soldier.”

“I…” K-2 faltered again. “…have been very obedient?”

“You have been following orders. That is a minimum of obedience, nothing to warrant a reward.”

“But what if I…”

Cassian never found out what K-2 was going to suggest for at this moment the silent alarm flashed, signifying that someone was trying to get onto the ship.

He cursed himself and his rebel uniform he wore and most of all the boner that would keep going unattended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the content advice for undernegotiated/not negotiated kink and roleplay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back on base but they're not done playing their game yet (everybody thinks they are being very weird.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more failtastic military kink roleplay.

Their mission went south like their missions often did and playing games with another had to take a backseat first to survival, then to simpler needs like food and sleep.

It was a testament to Cassian’s exhaustion that he considered eating and playing games with K-2 mutually exclusive.

Back on Yavin 4, Cassian soon realized that K-2 wasn’t done teasing him. It was subtler here, under the intense scrutiny of their peers and superiors. Uncharacteristic unfailing obedience, calling Cassian by his rank with just a hint of an undertone that promised more… Cassian responded in kind, his gait sharper, his commands curter, the picture perfect rebel officer who had memorized every handbook.

As a result, General Draven watched them with heightened paranoia and he tried his hardest not to feel mortified.

Cassian was left twitchy, constantly anticipating K-2’s next move until it finally clicked and he realized that in this game, it was his prerogative to make the next move. He was so used to letting K-2 set the pace at which they explored all the wonders of messy, organic intimacy and how a droid could come to enjoy it that he had completely forgotten that this game had him calling the shots.

He knew he looked good when he breezed into the droid bay, his uniform tucked perfectly into place, his posture military straight. His sharp eyes found K-2 lingering by one of the recharge docks but not actually recharging. Good. “Kaytoo Esso. You’re with me.”

Cassian gave no explanation until the droid fell into step with him in the hallway, and then only to tell him, “I have booked us training room seven. Unarmed combat. We have two hours.” He had tried to get them all afternoon but there was only so long he could believably be getting his ass kicked by a battle droid without needing to leave on a bacta stretcher.

They stepped into the training room and Cassian shed his brown uniform jacket before placing himself at one end of the mat. “Attack me.”

The room was plain, mats on the floor and walls sporting shelves with weapons and protective gear. Cassian had no intention to waste time on donning body armor only to shed it again as soon as he had made a token effort to pretend he hadn’t brought K-2 here for the exact reason he had brought him here.

K-2’s eyes flickered uncertainly. “Cassian…”

He nodded firmly. _I know what I’m doing_. “Attack me, soldier.”

K-2 attacked and Cassian didn’t pull punches. K-2 did; at full force, his punches could have knocked Cassian out or broken bones. Cassian didn’t have to suffer many of the softened hits; this was a dance they knew and danced well.

“Again,” it echoed through the room, and, “Again.”

Again, Cassian hit the mat back first, K-2 pinning him down – sloppily now, no longer cautious to mind his center of gravity. This time, Cassian slung his hips around his waist and bucked and twisted just so and then K-2’s own weight was working against him.

He smiled down at the droid pinned beneath him. “Hello, Kaytoo,” he murmured as he perched on top of his lover.

There was a hand in his hair and another on his butt and Cassian’s eyes fluttered shut as he pressed up into the large metal hand cradling him. He inhaled, exhaled, let the sharp, acute _want_ flow through him… and released it. Mind shifting gears back to the purpose of their stay in the training room. By the time he opened his eyes, he was almost certain he would manage a normal tone of voice.

“Do you think you deserve a reward yet, soldier?”

K-2’s vocoder buzzed with uncertain static before he ventured, “That’s for you to decide, Captain Andor?”

He hummed his pleasure, arching his back and leaning a little higher and kissing at the little pins on K-2’s chin, then the line of his mechanical jaw. “Well, I believe I owe you a reward. I haven’t taken good care of you, have I?”

He let his hand glide down K-2’s side, rough calloused fingers dipping into hollows and tracing seams where his components neatly slotted together. Cassian liked to trace these seams with his tongue. He also liked to gently pry loose the small panels covering up sensor relays and circuit boards and tangles of wires, and expose K-2’s most sensitive places for him to play with.

“I left you needy. And then I neglected you for days.” Because they had had real military things to do, no time for games of pretend, but still. And speaking of proper military things…

“Wait, stay right where you are,” Cassian ordered and stood up to the sweet noise of K-2’s agonized whine.

He fetched his uniform jacket, slipped it back on and even closed it and then he unceremoniously straddled him once more. K-2’s cooling systems were running overtime already, subtle vibrations thrummed through his chassis and Cassian unabashedly ground his cock against his frame, eager to soak up the thrumming and let it fill him, electrify him.

Somehow, he still found enough of his training to give K-2 an arch, pointed look, as if he wasn’t right now rubbing himself against him as if none of this affected him at all. “You wanted to fuck a proper Rebel officer, did you not?”

“Only you… Captain.”

Cassian groaned when K-2 rubbed his fingers over his lips in silent demand, he tilted back his head and let his mouth fall open. K-2 slipped two digits into his mouth and Cassian obediently swirled his tongue around the sensitive sensors. K-2’s fans picked up a notch and Cassian bucked his hips again, a silent plea answered a moment later when K-2’s other hand cradled him through the rough material of his uniform cargos.

He whimpered and Kay shifted them so they were both kneeling, somehow managing to never let his digits leave Cassian’s mouth until he was the one who released them and told him in a rough, cracking order, “Open my belt.” K-2 obeyed, large fingers clumsy on Cassian’s belt buckle – or just pretending to be clumsy to torment him, he had practice enough, after all.

He didn’t stop at the belt and Cassian didn’t stop him, just whimpered when K-2 opened his trousers and slipped his fingers inside – they were still slick with Cassian’s own saliva. He clung to K-2’s shoulders, absently wondering when he had lost control so completely but well beyond caring when K-2’s long fingers wrapped around his length. Cassian whined, pressing against him. The metal of his rank pin clanked against K-2’s frame and he clung harder, his fingers digging in as if he hoped he could actually dent the durasteel of his arms.

“Just like that, Cassian,” K-2 cooed.

Cassian rolled his hips to meet his strokes, then gave up altogether on controlling anything at all and just surrendered himself to K-2’s experienced touch. He whimpered when he paused his strokes to tease the sensitive head, stifled a little shriek when he picked them up again at a much faster pace that was almost enough to send Cassian over the edge from surprise alone. He slowed, his movements growing sensual and Cassian whimpered a strangled, “Please.”

“Begging now? Not an order?” K-2 remarked innocently and he gritted his teeth against the growl that wanted to escape him, for he _wouldn’t give him the satisfaction_. “I like it when you beg.”

Cassian finally fell over the edge with stifled gasps and whines – the training room wasn’t soundproofed and on a fairly busy corridor. He kept his forehead pressed to K-2’s shoulder as he shuddered through his muted orgasm, K-2 still stroking him until his cock felt so raw and sensitive that his touch _hurt_.

He remained in his arms, quietly fighting to regain his breath and at least a measure of his composure.

“I didn’t give many orders, did I,” he chuckled. He still sounded breathless. Cassian couldn’t be bothered to care or make any effort at all to hide it.

“I like it. It’s a refreshing change.”

He snorted a laugh and gave K-2 a playful whack on the shoulder. “You’re terrible.” He harrumphed. “And you got my uniform dirty.”

“Only the trousers. You won’t need these.”

Cassian could feel his heartbeat, just calming, speed up again. “I won’t?” He bit down on his bottom lip.

There were a lot of things he could have said – practical concerns, such as that he _would_ need his pants to make his way back to his quarters. Only, none of that mattered here and now. This wasn’t a time for practical concerns.

It was the time to scrape his nails over one of the small maintenance hatches on K-2’s left leg. “If I’m wearing too many clothes,” he said slyly, “then you’re wearing too much plating.”

He felt K-2’s systems speed up even more before he heard it, but there was the most delicious crackle of static to K-2’s voice when he said, “In your quarters.”

No more _Captain_ , no more faux deference, Cassian noted. That wasn’t surprising, being a well-behaved droid only ever appealed to K-2 for as long as he could fluster Cassian with it.

The rest of his mind was already focused on all the things he wanted to do with K-2 once he had him in his quarters. The smile Cassian flashed him was positively wicked.

“Good idea,” he said as he stood up and gallantly offered a hand to K-2. “I’m planning to keep you for longer than two hours.”

K-2 vented air in an amused little whoosh as he accepted Cassian’s hand and let him ‘help him up.’ He didn’t protest when Cassian held on once they were standing. He just leaned down, as close to being at eye level with him as he could get. “Cassian?” He waited for Cassian to catch on and meet his eyes. “I’m bored of your uniform but you can keep the jacket. _Only_ the jacket.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the mission, they find a more exciting use for the dejarik table.

Tomorrow they would have a mission. None of these missions which ended with fresh blood on Cassian’s hands and fresh guilt to weigh down his soul, not even one of those which left him with a grim sense of vindication. This one would be clean, harmless, a beginner’s recon mission they had landed only due to it being urgent and them the only team available.

That was, of course, no excuse to be careless, let alone to get sloppy or unprofessional.

Yet tonight, the atmosphere on their shuttle was distinctly different from most nights before a mission.

The ship felt uncharacteristically homey to Cassian, a metal sanctuary hiding them away from all prying, judging eyes to give them the privacy to be themselves.

He, himself, felt uncharacteristically domestic as he slipped onto the bench by the deactivated dejarik table, holding a bottle of some questionable Mandalorian liquor. It was vicious enough that a bottle’s worth could probably scour your stomach lining but it was spicy-sweet and aromatic and barely alcoholic at all. The perfect drink to enjoy when you had to keep all your wits together for the battle come morning.

He put the bottle down on the table when he sensed K-2 gear up for a scathing remark.

“I’m not going to get drunk on the night before a mission, Kay,” he promised him, “Nobody can keep down enough of that to get drunk. I just…” He leaned closer towards the droid, who was just finishing up repairs on his left arm. “I want to have a normal evening with you. Just the two of us.”

K-2 snapped the maintenance panel shut. “May I remind you it is always just us, if you keep any company at all.”

He rolled his eyes, albeit good-naturedly. “Of course it is.” He poked the bottle again. “But usually I’m working, right?”

There was a long pause, long enough for Cassian to start feeling self-conscious about his suggestion, except that they had been together long enough for him to have gained confidence in himself and in them and know that yes, K-2 _would_ want to spend time with him.

Recalling a time when he hadn’t had such confidence, he felt a wave of sympathy for his younger self.

“I would like that,” K-2 said. He sized up Cassian, optics lingering on his clothes. “Like a real date?”

Cassian felt himself flush a little. He was already out of uniform for the mission but he had taken care to dress nicely tonight. Not dress up, not that, but the flaps of his tan shirt opened a little wider at the collar than they did when he was in uniform, exposing a swath of bare skin where he would be professionally uptight on a normal day. He had even chosen the tight black pants which he pretty much only ever wore for K-2 – that he had brought them at all would be admission enough to the droid that he had been hoping for this night all along.

Kriff, and after all this trouble he’d gone to he wasn’t even sure how much K-2 was equipped to appreciate the human physique. Yet, much like Cassian’s blood hadn’t always pooled between his legs when K-2’s voice turned rich with static and his cooling systems reached a high-pitched whine, he knew K-2 had undergone a learning process, too.

He rubbed his thumb over a stain on the tabletop. “Only if you would like it to be one.”

“I would like that, too,” K-2 repeated, his voice as gentle as his vocabulator would permit, and his fingers even gentler as he brushed them over Cassian’s neatly combed hair.

Cassian exhaled slowly and leaned ever so slightly into the small caress. This had been a good idea.

“Would you like to play a round of dejarik?” K-2 asked and Cassian found himself smiling a little before he even knew what he was doing.

It was nice to see K-2 trying his best. “You just want to show off,” he teased, and honestly, he didn’t mind at all. There were worse fates than watching your boyfriend do his best to impress you.

K-2 bobbed his head. “You like it when I do.”

“I do.”

He activated the dejarik table and started a new game.

Cassian leaned slightly against K-2’s shoulder, he cradled the bottle between his hands and took an occasional sip, basking in the warm burn in his belly but more than that in the warmth building between K-2 and him.

It was a peaceful, intimate atmosphere. With the ship already in power-saving mode, the rec room was bathed in a dim, warm light that left the far ends of the room in shadow and made it look even smaller than it was. Their voices were hushed; quiet laughter bled into soft, playful bickering.

The game itself was going exactly as Cassian had known it would – K2 was kicking his ass every which way, and Cassian couldn’t have been happier.

“I want a rematch,” he announced when his last figure vanished in a shower of holographic sparks. “Best two out of three?”

K-2 vented hot air in an amused whoosh, and warmth bathed Cassian’s side. “If you insist on two more defeats.”

“Hmm…” He grinned. “You have superior strategical analysis software… but I’m _sneaky_.”

K-2 ruffled Cassian’s hair teasingly, then settled his hand less playfully at the nape of his neck. “You are.” He sounded equal parts fond and like he was just humoring Cassian.

Cassian took another sip of the rich drink and made his opening move.

“There was a 24,83% likelihood of you using this opening move after a first game defeat, factoring all available behavioral data and your current level of arousal into the calculations. Would you like to hear what your next move is going to be?”

Cassian’s brows furrowed in genuine annoyance. K-2 knew he hated being called predictable. It was _rude_. “Okay,” he said firmly, “there’s being cute, but enough is enough.” Cassian put the bottle down. It was time to start cheating.

In K-2’s bright photoreceptors, the black lenses shifted. “There is an 87,31% likelihood you will now attempt to seduce me. Am I right?” He sounded hopeful… and still insufferably smug.

Cassian slipped a hand behind his back, nails scraping over the small ports and buttons on his back. “Make your move, Kay.” Much to his chagrin, his voice was a little husky. But K-2’s was laden with more static, it sent prickles down Cassian’s spine.

He pressed himself firmly against his lover’s side. Unlike his uniform boots, the shoes he wore now could be easily toed off and so he did. His bare toes teased K-2’s wedge-shaped foot – nobody had put much thought into aesthetically pleasing droid feet, and they didn’t have many sensors except on the sole. It was a matter of making K-2 twitch and lift his foot so he could sneak his own underneath.

“Cassian. It’s your…” Cassian’s bare toes slid over the sensor-peppered underside of his foot and his leg twitched. Cassian didn’t worry about having his foot crushed, K-2 would never hurt him. “It’s your move, Cassian.”

He smiled. “I know.” His fingers trailed up his back to curl around the base of his left, longer antenna. K-2’s cooling systems were humming a promise now, betraying him as they always did. Cassian shifted, not exactly in discomfort at the growing tightness in his pants, no, more in anticipation. “I’m making my move.”

“The game, Cassian,” K-2 prompted. His fingers trailed down Cassian’s stubbly throat and found the invitingly revealed hollow of his collarbone. Cassian tilted his head and K-2’s fingers slipped lower. He shivered, then shivered again when the droid tugged at the fastenings of his shirt. The chest flaps of his tunic fell open wider and cold metal fingers explored heated skin.

His fingertip scraped over an already hardened nipple and Cassian bit down on his bottom lip to stifle a moan. He sank back into the cushions of the bench, pressed back against it with K-2 hovering over him, tall and looming and…

“It’s still your move, Cassian.” He sounded absolutely gleeful, too, the rusting bucket of bolts.

Cassian forced his eyes back on the game and recalled with a jolt that they hadn’t ever made it past their opening moves. He moved his figure and K-2 immediately responded with his own.

“Current estimations predict that I will defeat you in seven moves.”

In Cassian’s estimation, that was generous. He couldn’t even tell anymore what figure he had last moved. K-2 tugged his shirt open all the way and his legs splayed in a silent plea where he _truly_ wanted his attention. It was wanton, yes, and he thrilled in it now, just as he thrilled in the sharp breaths he took when K-2’s hand slipped lower but not where he needed it most. “Kay…”

K-2 ducked his head down, gently nuzzling Cassian’s hair and he craned his neck so he could pepper his vocabulator unit with sloppy kisses.

He twisted around, straddling the droid and pressing himself flush against him, heated, sweaty skin against running hot durasteel. Cassian wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy, but he felt drunk. Drunk on the moment, on his own daring. It loosened his tongue and his inhibitions as surely as alcohol would have, made him arch into K-2 and mouth at his faceplates again. If only they could kiss, he thought wistfully. If only. What he wouldn’t give to kiss him, just once.

But he never would, and there was no point in lingering on things that could never be. So he let his tongue and his lips explore all the tiny components of the vocabulator he knew so well and tried to forget that he had never dared ask just how much K-2 could feel of his kisses.

He nosed at his audio receptor component. “Let’s try a more challenging simulation. Scenario: You can keep rubbing in that your capabilities for strategical analysis are greater than mine. Or you can take off my clothes and fuck me on the dejarik table.” He leaned back into the strong, large hands cupping his ass. “Calculate: Which choice is more rewarding?”

He had the reward of hearing a stutter to K-2’s systems and then he was suddenly hauled up, to sit on the edge of the dejarik table.

K-2 crowded him, standing between his legs. When his hand finally touched the bulge in his pants he jerked, a strangled gasp flying from his lips. Cassian hooked his legs around K-2’s waist and slung his arms around his thin neck for leverage and thrust up into his hand, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. “Kay please…”

“Patience, Cassian. I want to gather as much data as I can,” K-2 said, which was K-2 speak for _I want to take my time with you_.

Cassian whined his protest. K-2 wouldn’t spend hours cataloging the responsiveness of every inch of his skin, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t, not when he had Cassian splayed on a table in the rec room instead of a bed or a mattress on the floor or any other surface better suited to it. Cassian was reasonably sure he wouldn’t. That left a whole lot of possibilities.

“You said you’d get me naked,” he prodded, though K-2 had promised no such thing. Cassian opened his eyes and gave K-2 a half-lidded look. It was only half sultry, half the result of laying in the middle of the hologram, and his entire world being bathed in flickering blue. He kicked his left leg with his heel. “And shut off the kriffing holo.”

K-2 obeyed the latter order.

Cassian sighed in relief when the headache-inducing blue flickering faded, leaving him free to be entranced by K-2’s bright photoreceptors and how completely they were focused on him. He had gained in confidence that his body was desirable to K-2 but he could still get drunk on it as if it were the first time he understood that K-2 _wanted_ him. Maybe he always would. He kind of hoped he always would.

Stars, but he loved him.

“Kay,” he breathed. Maybe he was drunk, drunk on this moment, for how often was he so daring, so completely free of inhibitions and walls and all the pretenses he used to protect himself? There was none of that as he slipped a hand down his chest, down his belly, to stroke himself through the far too tight pants he wore. His eyes remained on K-2 and hungrily took in every traitorous twitch.

He opened his pants slowly in spite of his own impatience, and yes, maybe his movements were still more deft than sensual as he lifted up his ass and pushed down his trousers – slowly, he had to remember to move slowly! Maybe it wouldn’t be sexy to anyone but K-2 and yet his lover’s systems were overclocking and he was sighing in relief when his cock was finally released from its too tight prison.

“Kay,” he murmured, his voice coaxing now and as sweet as it only ever got when he was lulling informants into a false sense of security, “don’t you want to help me?” He lazily moved his hand to stroke himself.

His fingers never found their destination before K-2’s hand wrapped around his wrist and stilled him.

Cassian sighed in bliss when metal fingers wrapped around his cock, he squeezed his eyes shut and bucked up into him. His feet found purchase on K-2’s hips and he lifted up higher, demanding _more_ with wordless moans and then with quiet, breathless pleas when K-2 abandoned his cock to caress the soft skin on the inner sides of his thighs, then his balls.

“You said you’d fuck me,” he whined, his voice a cracked, husky thing. Whining was beneath him but K-2 was still touching him everywhere but where he wanted to be touched and it was _torment_. He licked his dry lips. “You _promised_.”

“I promised no such thing,” K-2 told him, and yes, his voice was static-laden but he sounded nowhere near as undone and raw as Cassian felt. It wasn’t fair – and yet it sent a sharp thrill of desire through Cassian.

He clasped the edges of the table, they were surprisingly sharp, and lifted his hips up again. “Please?” On any other day, he would be up to his wrists in K-2’s wiring by now. He really didn’t know very well how to deal with being so passive, so _malleable_. He was used to being all sharp edges, too. He licked his lips again. “Don’t you want me, Kay?”

There was true gentleness to his touch as he caressed Cassian’s hip. “Always.” He leaned down and Cassian clung to his shoulders to haul himself up and mouthed a new wave of feverish kisses to his metal face.

K-2’s hand slipped between his legs and Cassian’s hips rolled in a gentle rhythm as he chased his own pleasure. He felt hot and like he was abuzz. His fingers dug into crevices, his nails scraped over seams. It was good, so good, _maddening_. And yet he craved more. There were still parts of him K-2 hadn’t touched, ways in which they remained separate when he yearned for nothing more than to become one as much as flesh and metal possibly could. “Wait. Wait. There’s lube in my trousers.”

K-2’s systems made the sweetest little stuttering sound and Cassian all but purred in response. He mouthed at the panel on his chest, the one only Cassian was allowed to open. “I want to come riding your fingers.” Another lick, a sweet kiss and he peered up at him and purposefully lowered his voice to a husky little croon. “You wouldn’t deny me, would you, Kay?”

It was both sweet and funny how painstakingly deliberate K-2’s movements were as he retrieved the small tube for Cassian. He plucked them from his fingers and kissed each of his fingertips in thanks, and gave his forefinger a little suckle, wishing as so often that K-2’s designers hadn’t been quite so practically minded.

He’d had vague ideas of preparing himself for K-2, of giving him a show that would finally pull him in as deep as Cassian was gone. He was still occupied with kissing and mapping his frame when metal fingers heated by his own body warmth and slickened with lube parted his cheeks and circled his entrance teasingly. He tensed in surprise, then melted against K-2 with a soft whimper of, “Please, more,” and gave himself fully to being opened and filled and the delicious shocks of pleasure shooting through him every time K-2 thrust into him.

Between them, his cock was rubbing against his droid’s frame, pre-cum rapidly making a mess of him. Cassian’s tongue and sweaty hands left marks of their own and through all this K-2 kept fucking into him with his fingers, slow and sweet and sensual, building up the pleasure until it was more than he could bear and he came in his arms.

He was a shuddering, shaky mess long after he stopped coating K-2’s pelvic panels in milky-white streaks of cum. Cassian remained right there in K-2’s arms, he let the hum of his cooling systems seep into him and lull him into something close to sleep. He was warm, and so was Cassian for now, though the sweat coating his body was rapidly cooling. Soon, it would leave him cold wherever he wasn’t pressed against K-2’s frame but for now, he was content to remain exactly where he was – in K-2’s arms.

K-2 ran the hand that wasn’t still coated in grease through Cassian’s hair, he seemed just as happy to bask at the moment.

For once Cassian’s mind was quiet, no thoughts of the Rebellion’s many needs or the next mission’s parameters occupying his mind. All that mattered now was the soft whirring of K-2’s fans and the pleasant sluggish heaviness settling over him.

“I believe you need a bath and bed,” K-2 told him, sounding fondly amused and a little smug again.

He hummed his agreement. That did sound nice. The table was getting uncomfortable, and the edge of it was digging into his thighs. He ran his fingers over K-2’s back. “But I haven’t done anything for you yet.”

“We have time.”

“Join me in the shower?” He pulled away to inspect K-2’s state and grinned, more than a little proud and smug himself. His frame was glistening with saliva and sweat, and the evidence of Cassian’s release. K-2 looked as well-fucked as a droid could with all his panels still closed and he had no intention to let it go uncommented. “You need a good cleaning, too.”

“I might have to. You are very messy.”

Cassian stretched lazily and pressed himself against Kay. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You will clean me up only to get me dirty again?” K-2 sounded incredulous. Cassian would have bought it, if he didn’t know better.

He moved to slip from the table but K-2 swooped him up before his feet could touch the ground. Cassian permitted it, he just wrapped his arms around his neck to steady himself. He really had to be drunk on this night to let himself be carried butt naked through the ship - and yet he couldn’t even bring himself to care, not even a whiff.

His eyes were softened by warmth as he gave K-2 a smile. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”


End file.
